


Lean Times for Heroes

by vain_glorious



Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Gen, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-22
Updated: 2017-11-22
Packaged: 2019-02-05 09:16:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,852
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12791454
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vain_glorious/pseuds/vain_glorious
Summary: “Call a truce,” Natasha says to Steve. “Clint and Tony and Rhodes are sitting at a table drinking together.”“Oh good, tell him I’m drinking,” Tony says. “He’s a big fan of that.”In the aftermath of CA: CW, Natasha returns to the compound.





	Lean Times for Heroes

**Author's Note:**

> Title: http://www.plyrics.com/lyrics/worldinfernofriendshipsociety/leantimesforheroes.html

Tony Stark hasn’t removed the Avengers branding from his Manhattan building. That’s a little surprising, given his emotional state and affection for destruction. He also hasn’t removed Natasha Romanov’s security clearance from his upstate compound, which she discovers while trying to bypass entrance security. She doesn’t need to break in.

That seems like a good sign, and Natasha decides to be equally direct. If he’s going to allow her in, she’s going to tell him she’s there.

Several security systems probably alert him as she makes her way to his lab, including the new AI FRIDAY, who Tony had already programmed to be unnecessarily antagonistic before anything even went down. But maybe he’s truly not watching the cameras and has muted FRIDAY, because he looks genuinely surprised when he glances up from his collection of screens and sees her.

Natasha catalogues the expressions that pass over his face. The first one she doesn’t expect, in that for a split second he seems to think she’s a different, taller, redhead. But then he realizes she’s definitely not Pepper and after the crushing disappointment, has the reaction Natasha anticipated. She has her hands set widely on the counter top, fingers splayed and still. Everything about her body language is set to _deescalate_ , but she’ll take action if she has to.

For his part, Tony twitches with the tiniest indication of shock, takes in her clearly non-aggressive stance, and does nothing.

“What – What are you doing here?” The stutter is the only thing that gives him away, the only word that isn’t instantly infused with quiet hostility. “Shouldn’t you be underwater?” he accuses, going for mean and looking mildly disappointed when she only blinks at him.

Natasha shrugs. “Maybe.” She strolls closer, letting one hand trace along the lab table, the other dangling innocently at her side. “I live here,” she reminds him, when he just glares at her.

“Do you?” he asks, with the tone of an angry landlord.

“I did,” she says, still calmly. She doesn’t want to fight with him, even verbally. But if he thinks she’s patronizing him – playing him, _lying_ to him – that’s not what Natasha wants. “My keys still worked,” she continues. And she does want to play _with_ him, a little, because that’s what they do.

Or did.

Tony doesn’t want to play. Suddenly, he has one arm up, index finger pointed at her. And it’s not a weapon, but the movement feels to both of them like it could be. Natasha stops moving, just stands and lets him aim at her.

“Did you know?” he demands, voice piercing the air and that dialing back to something more normal. He coughs to clear his throat, looking like he knows he sounds like a lunatic but maybe can’t control that. “Did you know what happened to them?”

Natasha puts her hands back out on the counter top, tries to make the tension in the air diffuse around her stillness.

“No,” she says, simply.

And she didn’t. In another lifetime, that’d be a catastrophic intelligence failure. He was her operation, once. Natasha knew everything about Tony Stark, from the very files that had been written and at some point edited. She remembers counting his pressure points and determining that mom and dad weren’t a fruitful way to go; too much of a primal wound. She’d wanted cooperation, not chaos.

Not for the first time, she wishes Tony Stark’s soul wasn’t on eternal public display. Helmut Zemo had come to the same conclusion she had all those years ago, and seized on it. _Expertly_. But it’s not admiration she feels for the craft, even if she can calculate it as a brilliant play.

Natasha never read Barnes’ HYDRA file before giving it to Steve. It hadn’t been her mission. She knew what she needed to know about Barnes. Steve had needed to know more. He wanted to see his friend’s ledger of blood. Natasha had seen plenty of those, and she remembers thinking she didn’t need to read his. She also remembers thinking she was making up stupid reasons and should have treated it like any other piece of intel. Natasha could have read it, maybe could have stopped all of this before it exploded in their faces. Somehow.

Now, she just wants to reach out and find that furious crack in her friend, close it up like the power source incision formerly in Tony’s chest. Because she has no idea how to fix this.

And maybe she’s staring at him a little too long, since _pity_ is another immediate way to blow this up.

“Stop-“ Tony begins, then switches back to his sole focus: “He didn’t tell you?”

No sarcastic diminutive for Steve. No Captain Codependency and his sidekick Psycho Killer. No Captain Cool With Matricide. Nothing.

“No,” she repeats.

“Would you have told me if you knew?” Tony persists. He doesn’t sound angry any more, just…dedicated.

Natasha doesn’t even ponder her answer, replying faster and more honestly than she probably should. “I wouldn’t do this to you,” she says.

“Well,” Tony says, as if he doesn’t know what do with that. “He did.” He blinks at her.

She’s not sure which one he’s referencing, and that’s the scariest thing. It freezes her in place.

Of all things, her stunned silence seems to calm him. “What are you doing here?” he repeats.

Her tactical mind kicks in and starts speaking before she says something helplessly stupid. “Colonel Rhodes asked me to come,” she says, and it’s only a lie because Rhodey didn’t know how to contact her. “I have some experience with extreme…recoveries.”

Some of Tony’s coldness melts. “Okay,” is all he says, but he puts his elbows back down on the lab table and redirects his attention to his many screens, and allows her to take that as an obvious dismissal.

~

Rhodes has moved into Stark’s compound. He basically has his own wing, though part of it is his living space and part of it is the state-of-the-art hospital dedicated to his paralysis that Tony has created in the rest of it. He’s in that section of it when Natasha finds him, and she arrives just in time to see him disconnect from a bulky exoskeleton encircling his lower half.

The exoskeleton legs wait until he’s safely on a gurney and then walk themselves out of the way. Natasha’s watching them tuck against the wall when Rhodey realizes she’s there.

“You’re the new Russian nursky here to give me my sponge bath,” he says, and Natasha can’t help but smile when she realizes he’s quoting Tony.

“He told you I was here,” she says, walking closer to his bed.

“He told me you _lied_ to him and said I asked for you,” Rhodes corrects, and his bottom half might be hanging limply, but his shoulders are squared and aggressive.

“You tell him that?” Natasha asks, still approaches. She senses none of Tony’s rage. The man who fell out of the sky with a crushed spine is much calmer.

“No,” Rhodes says. “But do we really need more lies?” He drops the posture.

Natasha doesn’t answer him. She repeats her line to Tony: ““I have some experience with extreme …recoveries.”

Rhodes all but rolls his eyes. “He bought that?”

“It’s true,” she says. He looks at her. “It also worked,” she moves on. “How can I help?” she asks him.

Natasha doesn’t ask how he is. She knows the facts. And no one in this building needs to revisit how or why he’s in this condition. _Are you okay_ is useless here.

“You have experience with Tony Stark,” Rhodes says. She tilts her head. “I need you to distract him,” he says, without any preamble.

“What –” she begins, though she almost already knows.

“I am okay,” Rhodes answers what she never asked. “I mean – not – “ he gestures down. “I am dealing – and I appreciate the doctors and the new legs and everything else but – you know Tony and you know how he gets.”

“Obsessed,” Natasha says, and that might be putting it mildly.

“You know how quiet it is here?” Rhodes asks. “I used to visit and it was like a… a superhero frat house nut house with robots.”

“Yeah,” she says, because it was.

“Like weapons and holes and robots and Norse Gods _everywhere_.”

“Yeah.”

“Vision’s the only one left,” Rhodes continues. “I don’t even know what it he is. But he’s quiet. And oh, I think he makes Tony worse. I mean, he tries…but…” He looks at her. “I miss JARVIS.”

“Me too,” she says.

Rhodes continues, “I can’t feel my legs and my biggest problem right now is…not that.”

Natasha understands. “I can take it,” she says. “I’ll be a good distraction.”

Rhodes tucks his chin down and lets out a breath. “He’s not okay,” he says. “At all.”

“I noticed.”

“You don’t have to take all of it,” Rhodes says, ever the gentleman.

“You got a lot on your plate,” Natasha says. “I can be a very good distraction.

Rhodey looks unmistakably grateful. “Can you also let him replace most of your vertebrae with robo-bones, because he really wants to do that and I won’t let him.”

“I’ll think about it,” Natasha says, and smiles at him.

“Hey,” he says. “Come here.”

She moves closer, avoiding his dangling legs, and his hug feels really good.

~

Natasha’s apartment is just how she left it. And walking in does feel a little like coming home, a sentiment that’s utterly alien in itself. But it also feels wrong. Rhodes is right. It is _so_ quiet.

She wonders if the other Avengers’ apartments are still there. Natasha snoops unabashedly. She needs to know where Tony’s head is at.

All the Avengers still have homes in Tony Stark’s compound. Except Steve.  His apartment is now a piece of Rhodey’s hospital. Natasha doesn’t know if she would have preferred to find his rooms deliberately emptied, maybe some juvenile graffiti on the walls. Instead, it’s erasure. His rooms have been neatly excised and architecturally transformed.

Natasha walks from the wall that used to be Steve’s door, past the others’ entrances: Bruce, Thor, and Clint. The doors are there; the occupants are gone. This is why it’s so quiet. The path back to her own apartment is silent and empty. It’s lonely – such an uncharacteristic emotion that Natasha has to pause to identify it. She wonders if Tony had any time for that while he was boarding up Steve’s door.

Tony doesn’t act lonely. Or, at least, he doesn’t miss her. Natasha spends three days in the compound without seeing him. When she visits Rhodey, she gets the impression Tony somehow left a second before she got there.

“I think this might be what having divorced parents is like,” Rhodes says, indirectly confirming her theory.

“I’ll call him Daddy if you want,” Natasha offers, “But I think that’ll backfire on both of us.”

“He never leaves the lab,” Rhodes tattles. “He eats there and he sleeps there, and I don’t think he’s doing much of either.”

“How about you,” she redirects the conversation. “Have you been getting out? We could go outside, try some uneven terrain.”

“I think that’d be a bad idea when one of us has a wanted poster and I couldn’t do more than maybe trip the guy who tries to take you into custody.”

“You could do more than that,” Natasha says, confidently.

“I’d bite his ankle.”

“Thanks,” she says. “We can stay inside. Want to play cards?”

“Tony says you cheat like crazy.”

She finds a deck of cards and starts shuffling them. “Well, sometimes Daddy says mean things, but we love him anyway.”

Rhodes tries not to look skeptical, and kind of fails. Natasha wonders if he knows that Tony is sending money to Laura Barton. She called to check on the family, and while the money isn’t fixing everything, it’s helping. Natasha’s not going to mention it, because Tony will absolutely ruin it with his mouth, but she thinks it means he loves them, too.

~

“You’re moving awfully slow for someone on the run,” Tony says, when she decides that staying in the compound has no outcome if he hides from her the entire time. So, she goes back to his lab, the part Rhodey says he’s basically living in.

“No one likes a snitch, Tony,” she says, standing in the same spot as the first night she arrived.

He’s at the same bench, electronic parts scattered over the table top.

“I don’t like search warrants,” he corrects. “You’re making me harbor a fugitive. That’s very inconsiderate, for a houseguest.”

“Actually,” Natasha says, walking closes. “T’Challa changed his story. Said Witch put the whammy on me.”

Tony actually kind of laughs, which is the first time she’s heard that in a while. “That’s a good one,” he says. “If I believed for one second Prince Panther would lie. It’s actually hard for some people, you know.”

“T’Challa asked that they drop any charges against me,” she tells him. “Out of recognition of Wakanda’s wish for peace.”

“That’s better,” he said. “It work?”

“The lie was better,” she says. “No.”

“Thought so.”

And that’s really where they are. No one in this room is in charge of the people who want to put Natasha in jail. Steve may have liberated the rest from the Raft, but he’s not in charge either. And that’s an entirely different issue from the blood feud between Tony and Barnes.

“If I throw something at you, are you gonna catch it or try to kick me in the face?” Tony asks, interrupting her thoughts.

“Depends on what it is?” Natasha replies.

Tony holds up something about the size of nickel between his fingers. He flips it between his knuckles then flicks it off his thumb.

Moving closer, Natasha catches it in the palm of her hand. It looks like a flat, shiny button.

“Put it on,” Tony says.

“Is this incendiary?” she asks.

He snorts. “Paranoid.” Tony raises another little disc, pops it into the neck of his t-shirt. Immediately, his face shimmers and morphs. Suddenly, Natasha is looking at Steve Rogers. It shimmers again, and his face becomes Rhodes, then Thaddeus Ross. “Do you want me to find you?” he says, and somehow he sounds like Ross, too.

“You can take Rhodey outside this way,” he says, flicking off the button and turning back into Stark. “He was complaining.”

“Right, field trips only,” she says. “Thank you.”

“Don’t,” he replies. “Much like how you’re trespassing, you definitely stole any and all Stark technology found on your person when they catch you.”

“Got it,” Natasha confirms.

Carefully she puts his little device under her collar, still deactivated. She needs her own face to do this – though she can think a few other options that might work, too.

“So, is plausible deniability just how you’re going to play this?” she asks, bluntly.

She slips closer, ‘til she’s on a stool next to him.

He tenses a little, either at her proximity or the question.

“Well, unless you know a secret extra-governmental agency, that’s not actually a different, evil extra-governmental cult, and still exists, and can overrule the UN and international courts…” he trails off. “Then yes, plausible deniability that doesn’t put anyone else, particularly me, in prison, is my tactic of choice.”

“Good.”

Tony stares at her, confused.

“I was always on your side on that,” she says. “I just wanted to make sure you didn’t actually want me in prison.”

Tony rolls his lips and doesn’t even say any sexual innuendo about handcuffs.

“But we need to talk,” Natasha says. “And not here.”

She thinks Rhodes is right that Stark is neither eating nor sleeping. And that’s something, unlike a blood feud, that she can address.

“Why?”

“Because I’m ordering a pizza and you’re going to watch me eat it,” she says.

~

Tony actually does just watch her eat the pizza. But one of the robots makes him a green smoothie that smells like dirt and he idly drinks that while she eats.

In the kitchen lighting, brighter than the lab, Natasha can see him better. Rhodes is absolutely right about the not sleeping – his eyes are red and rimmed with craters.

There’s a team of lawyers working on amending the accords so it’s harder for Ross – or anyone else – to start tossing augments and obnoxious people in animal suits in prison without probable cause. Once public outrage fades, Tony thinks things will be better. The accords will work.

“There’s a lot of footage,” he says, trailing off.

He’s able to explain the state-of-play calmly and factually. Tony’s omitted the state of his own house, though.

“Your turn,” Tony says. “Debrief.” He swirls his straw around his drink. “Tell me all the sides – I’m still not sure which one you’re on.”

“Winter Soldier is neutralized,” Natasha says, flatly. He hadn’t asked. It’s important.

Tony grimaces, but stays silent. He doesn’t ask what that means.

“Everyone else is okay,” she continues.

“I know where they are,” Tony mutters. “Did you know he sent me a cell phone? I could call in a drone strike if I felt like it.”

“You don’t,” she says.

“Hmm,” Tony says. “Not a _drone_ strike, no.”

He clearly wants her to ask him to elaborate, but instead she reaches out and snags his drink. He lets her take it, and she discovers it tastes like dirt, too.

“Is there vodka in this?” she asks.

Tony snorts, unhooks it from her hands and takes it back.

“Could use it,” she says, and resists the urge to wipe her tongue off with a napkin.

He pokes the pizza box. “You’re a terrible dietician, don’t you dare try to feed Rhodey anything.”

“Rhodey can feed himself,” she retorts. “I’m not so sure about you.”

Tony stares at her, clearly baffled. She wonders if he even knows it looks like he’s dropped several kilos since the last time she saw him.

“Are you – the – What?” He falls silent, then sticks his tongue out and taps it against his lips. “Nice subject change.”

She inclines her head.

“I can show you the nutritional info,” he says, like if she’s insisting on discussing this he’s going to humor her. “But why am I getting the third degree over a protein shake? I’ve done much more offensive things, much more recently, remember?”

“Yes,” she says emphatically.

“But I can drink them while plotting vengeance in my lab,” Tony continues, slyly. “It’s convenient.”

“You’ve lost weight and you look terrible,” Natasha says, ignoring his attempt to bring the conversation back to that topic. “Rhodes is not able to take care of you at the moment and asked me to.”

Tony nearly does a giant green spit take. “Well, that’s some bullshit,” he says, when he recovers.  Then, softer, “Because you’re terrible at it.”

Natasha shrugs.

“My face was kind of sore, for a while,” he continues. “I had to have some dental procedures. Chewing was not high on the list of enjoyable experiences.” He pauses. “And I was busy building a hospital, and Rhodey, and the UN, and the fugitive assholes.”

“I don’t care,” Natasha says, pleasantly. “Rhodey needs you to get it together.”

“What’s your angle?” he squints at her.

“No angle,” she says. “Rhodey.”

“That’s a pretty good one,” he retorts, and quiets.

~

“Tattle-tale,” Rhodey says, when she visits him next. “Master of stealth, my ass.”

“Sorry,” she says.

“I was regaled – _regaled_ – with excuses and reminders of some of Tony’s past behaviors, which I also found objectionable, for different reasons.”

“He’s not drunk or fucking anyone,” Natasha agrees.

She was not surprised, but astounded, that the only alcohol in the house is still her own and the others’. After Germany, Natasha needed several shots and she doesn’t use liquor as a coping mechanism.

“For which he thinks he deserves a gold star,” Rhodey says. “And then he insisted I try some of that green shit.”

“Sorry,” Natasha offers, more sincerely.

Rhodey makes a face. “You should be.”

“Want to go outside?” She clicks her collar device until it becomes Thor.

“Thor is not that short,” Rhodes tells her, almost laughing. “But yes.”

She offers him her arm so they can walk out together. He’s still very unsteady and the exo-skeleton has a long way to go.

“Tony’s working on this?” she asks, hopefully.

“He wants to replace my entire spine with a robot,” Rhodes corrects.

“He is good at those.”

“ _No.”_

_~_

Tony eats dinner with her now. It’s an elaborate performance designed entirely to refute her accusation that he was being a burden on a paralyzed dude, but it has the desired outcome so she ignores that part.

Rhodey is a safe topic. As long as they stick to the clinical facts and Tony’s progress on the exoskeleton.  Rhodes joins them sometimes, but the drugs make him tired and mess with his appetite, so mostly it’s just Natasha and Tony.

She does her best to advance Rhodey’s desire that Tony focus on improving the exoskeleton, though she thinks that Tony had hardware in his heart for so long, he doesn’t get that other people are less comfortable with surgically installing machinery.

They know too many bio-engineered people, Natasha realizes, because all of a sudden Tony is clearly thinking about the Winter Soldier and his metal arm.

“Shit,” Natasha says, softly, cursing into her Chinese food.

Tony rolls his eyes. “I’m not going to start sobbing into the table cloth,” he says, defensively.

There isn’t a table cloth, but that wasn’t really the scenario Natasha was picturing.

“I shot it off,” Tony says, idly playing with his spoon. “Did you know that?” He makes a face that’s either a grimace or a repressed grin. “The metal arm,” he clarifies.

“No,” Natasha says.

He frowns. “Well, you should know that.” Tony pauses. “I thought you talked.”

“I talked to Clint,” she says, if they’re going there. “I got a summary.”

“You want his number?” Tony mumbles. “I got it.” She shakes her head; Steve gave her that number, too. 

But now Tony is squinting at her, and they’re definitely going there.

“What’d Clint say?” he asks, curiously, toying his spoon against the table top.

“You want to gossip?” she asks.

“I like gossip better than lies,” he says, likes there’s a serious ethical difference. “What about you?”

“Clint said they were off the Raft, they were safe. The Winter Soldier was neutralized,” she repeats.

“That’s a matter of opinion,” Tony interrupts.

She ignores him. “He said to watch my ass and keep an eye on his family.”

“That’s it?”

“You want his number?” Natasha asks, like it will be fun for her to sit there while that conversation happens.

Tony doesn’t answer, falling oddly silent. He taps the spoon against the table.

“I asked you if you knew,” he says. “And you said no.” He looks at her. “Why didn’t you say “Know what?” because that would have made a lot more sense?”

“Are we talking about this?” she asks.

“Just assume we’re always talking about it,” Tony says, “Make up for all that time where we weren’t.”     

“Clint didn’t know,” Natasha says.

He waves the silverware at her. “Not what I asked.”

“I think he still doesn’t,” she continues.

“Mmm,” Tony says.

“I think Steve read it in HYDRA’s file,” she continues. Tony tilts his head. “Which I got for him.”

“What it’d say?”

“I didn’t read it,” she says, and it sounds like an excuse. “Been there, done that, Tony.” He doesn’t challenge her.

“Arnim Zola mentioned your father’s so-called accident when SHIELD fell,” she says. “I assumed you knew. Or at least suspected, given what he was involved in.”

“He was also heavily involved in alcoholism and driving drunk,” Tony informs her. “Which is what I was told.” He makes a go-on motion with his finger.

“Clint passed the phone to Steve and he told me what Helmut Zemo did,” she continues. “That’s when I knew everything.”

“I shot his arm off, that’s important,” Tony adds, inanely.

“Can that be enough?” Natasha asks.

Tony just looks at her, and doesn’t answer.

~

The only other Avenger - if that’s what they still are - in the compound aside from Natasha, Tony, and Rhodey is Vision.

Whatever Vision is, he doesn’t seem caught in any emotional aftermath. He’s hard to read. Possibly because he learned to express feelings from a bunch of liars, spies, and deeply dysfunctional superheroes. Natasha’s not sure what’s normal for him.

She seeks him out to say hi and make sure he knows she is still a friendly.

It’s less awkward than trying to navigate Tony’s emotional minefield, but Vision expresses sincere interest in her well-being and concern for the rest of the team that’s off with Cap. Especially Wanda.

Natasha doesn’t have much to tell him, only that they’re okay, but gone.

Vision wants to know if there’s any chance for reconciliation, and Natasha feels like she has to comfort him.

“Seems to be a ceasefire at least,” she offers. Everyone knows where everyone else is, and no one is launching weapons. No one is coming home, either. “You’ve been here with Tony, what do you think?”

“I think he is BARFing too excess,” Vision says, immediately, with the body language of a tattletale. A regal, alien tattletale.

She stares at him. “Did you say barfing?”

“FRIDAY can explain further,” he says, turning away.

“Blame her?” she asks, and he nods.

~

BARF turns out to be one of Tony’s projects, with a most juvenile name.  It’s not a secret, either, though Natasha’s never heard of it. She stays only peripherally informed on his various inventions, mostly the ones she worries might accidentally destroy the entire building. But FRIDAY cheerfully explains BARF, and even allows Natasha access to the room where Tony built the prototype.

It looks simple and benign enough: a pair of glasses and some kind of projection screen. But Natasha has instantaneous reservations about Tony Stark’s expertise on, if not trauma, then therapeutic techniques that aren’t alcoholism and sarcasm. And genius or not, she’s with Rhodey in that he’s not allowed to dig around in spines or brains.

“What’s Tony been using it for?” Natasha asks FRIDAY.

“BARF usage is private,” FRIDAY snips.

But then the AI opens a holo screen and, without preamble, shows Natasha a recent video, only months old, of Stark enacting a public therapy session with the device on stage at MIT.

Natasha watches it in silence, not at all surprised and yet still deeply disconcerted that Tony’s first instinct is to parade that kind of primal wound for the entire world to see.

“Thanks, FRIDAY,” she says, when the speech concludes and the video fades.

The AI doesn’t answer, and doesn’t offer an opinion on whether Tony spending so much time down here with his doomed parents qualifies as therapeutic or traumatic.

“Do you wish to use the device?” FRIDAY asks, when Natasha continues to stand there and stare at the glasses.

“No,” she says, immediately. “I’m good.”

She almost asks FRIDAY if the invention can be used to project normal memories, because frankly right now she could use the presence of a few people, before everything fell apart. Instead, she just sighs and turns around to leave.

“Can you alert me the next time Tony uses this?” she requests.

The AI chimes in the affirmative as Natasha exits.

Natasha takes the opportunity to stroll through the rest of Tony’s cavernous labs. Not actually snooping, mostly trying to get her thoughts in order. The only person around to consult on this is Rhodey, and she’s not supposed to be distracting him from his physical health and recovery by burdening him further with Tony Stark’s mental health. But he’s the only one she’s got to ask or tell anything to.

Shortly, Natasha comes across something else she’d like to tell someone.

The lab turns from miscellaneous experiment bits strewn on tables in to dark, empty rooms with bars for walls. Natasha halts, not sure what she’s seeing. She walks further in, following a light source emanating from somewhere inside.

A few more steps and it becomes undeniable: Tony Stark is building a dungeon in his compound.

Natasha sees an object lying on what is probably his intended prisoner’s metal bunk. Tony is not big on subtlety, and she knows he probably thinks it’d be hilarious to welcome Steve to the cell with his shield already on his bed.

Steve could at least use it to escape, her tactical minded side points out. Which is what Tony gets for being ridiculous and spiteful.

“Shit,” Natasha whispers, aloud. She goes to pick up the shield, her fingers running across the grooves T’Challa’s claws put in it.

She almost turns around to walk out, because she’s already seen enough. But there might be more, and she should at least have a full understanding of what Tony thinks he’s doing before she goes and confronts him about it.

Natasha doesn’t have to go far, because the light source is Tony. He’s soldering something in another suspiciously cell-like room. His head is down and he doesn’t look up, though he has to hear her footsteps.

Natasha clears her throat.

And possibly she’s feeling a little more highly-strung than she’d care to admit, because when he doesn’t look up, her next choice is to whip the shield through the pile of electronics at his elbow.

The electronics go flying in a metallic scatter and the shield bounces off of the bars behind Tony and comes to rest on the floor near his feet.

“Jesus, Romanov,” Tony says, when he drops his arms from instinctually protecting his face. He looks more annoyed than anything else. “I’ve had it up to here with people throwing that thing at me.”

Natasha glares at him and, without saying a word, he seems to remember where they are.

“FRIDAY,” he says, addressing the AI. “OP Sec – remember that?”

“You didn’t lock the door, sir,” FRIDAY reports.

“Yes,” he mutters. “And neither did you. That’s the problem.”

“What the hell are you doing?” Natasha demands.

Tony stoops over and picks up the shield. He sets it on the counter, now cleared.

“This is mine, now,” he tells her. “I can explain the details, if you like, but it’s mine.”

“Not what I’m talking about,” she says.

He ignores her. “My first plan was to bury it with my parents,” he says. “I thought that’d be fitting. But, don’t get weepy. My second plan was to transform it into a vibranium buttplug and send it back to him.”

“Can I see that again?” she asks.

“Not falling for that,” he says, patting the shield. “I said, I’m tired of people throwing it at me.”

“You built a dungeon,” she says.

“I don’t suppose there’s any possibility you haven’t already done an Olympic record long jump to conclusions?”

Natasha spreads her arms out at the waist, a posture begging for answers.

A strange expression settles over Tony’s face. Like half of him wants to tell her, and the other half is going to be a stubborn asshole.

They stare at each other for a moment. In that time, Natasha recalculates. She ignores the instinct to stalk over and shake him. Or, whack him upside the head with that goddamn shield. He wants her to get frustrated and make demands, so he can ignore them. He might even want to fight some more. She decides to forget that he’s her idiot friend and pretend this is just an op.

“Don’t want to tell me?” she asks. “Fine, I’ll go ask Rhodey.”          

She doesn’t get more than half-turned towards the door.

“No – wait!”

She turns back, finds Tony looking a lot like when she threw the shield at him, hunched over on the workspace. 

“He doesn’t know, does he?” She walks closer to his workbench.

“I would like the opportunity to explain it in my own words,” Tony says, defensively.

“Good. Go.”

“Or I could press a button and the doors could slam shut with you inside,” Tony mutters, and she’d be alarmed if his hands weren’t in clear view and still. One’s folded against his cheek, the other clenched irately on the bench top. “That’d be fun for me.”

“Tony.”

He sighs audibly, sits up straight for the first time.

“Where do think they’re going to put you, when they catch you?”

“What?”

“They are probably going to catch you,” he says. “You’re hiding in your house – my house – but still.” He continues. “Their first choice was compromised, as you know. I imagine whatever’s next is gonna be the Raft 2: Electrified Boogaloo.”

“This is for _me_?” Now she really is watching his hands.

He notices her gaze and waves his palms in the air at her. “If it was, I definitely would have already pressed the button.” Tony gestures with on index finger for her to approach. “C’mere, Agent Paranoid.”

“You built a dungeon,” she reminds him, walking closer.

When she gets near, Tony activates a holo screen and shoves it towards her. It’s a jumbled mass of images, diagrams, and text.

“Keep talking,” she orders.

“We’re really close to getting the charges against you dropped down to a hand slap and don’t do it again,” Tony says.

“We?” Natasha asks.

“Your lawyer, T’Challa, and me,” he says, trailing off.

“My lawyer?”

“Can you shut up and be grateful for just a second?” Tony demands. “Technically, all you did was very briefly fight another augment – or man in a cat costume – who also wasn’t authorized to destroy a sovereign nation’s airport. Because you kept your idiocy contained, you’re in a lot less trouble, especially when the guy whose ass you kicked is a very influential world leader asking for leniency.”

“What kind of leniency?”

“Six months confinement,” Tony says, quickly, and before Natasha can speak, he rushes on, louder, jabbing an angry finger in the air. “And don’t you dare say no, I am not finished.”

He glares at her and looks about as serious as he can get, so Natasha just waits.

“This is the best you’re going to get, Natasha. I can convince them I’m the only one that contain you. I can show them my state-of-the-art dungeon, and I can take responsibility. It looks good. And you don’t actually have to be in there.” He waves at the cells. “I’ll make a holo-you or something.”

“The cells aren’t finished,” Natasha say, slowly.

“Because we’re still hashing out the security requirements,” he confirms. “There are a lot.”

“For me?” she says, slowly.

“Don’t sell yourself short,” Tony says. “Yes.”

“When were you going to offer this?” Natasha asks.

“When it was legally settled.”

She blinks at him. “And the cell was done.”

“And I could press the button if you said no,” Tony confirms.

 Natasha stares at him. “I’m not saying yes,” she says. “I need to read this. My actual lawyer needs to read it.”

“Okay,” he says. “It’s on the main drive under Renovation Plans. Help yourself.”

“Tony, you also destroyed an airport,” she points out.

“Yes, well I was mostly authorized, didn’t help the fugitives, and I bought three new terminals and several other things,” he replies, picking up the soldering iron he laid aside. “The Tony Stark Bank of Forgiveness opens a lot of hearts and minds.”

“I appreciate what you’re trying to do for me,” Natasha says, after a second. Because even if he’s going about it as wrongheadedly as possible, she gets it. And now’s probably not the time to ask if he is ever going to stop acting unilaterally. The answer appears to be no.

“Good,” Tony says. “Then sign it before they toss your ass in Davy Jones’ Locker and I can’t get you out.”

“Maybe,” she says.

“There’s also a provision that you can serve out your sentence in Wakanda if you prefer,” Tony mutters, eyes back on his work. “You and T’Challa can bond over your mutual enjoyment of monochrome predators.”

But he sounds like he doesn’t like that option.

“Thanks,” she says.

His eyes flutter up to assess her opinion of the offer, then back down.

“But Tony,” she adds, “You ever try to press that button on me, you’re going to wish you were fighting the guy with the shield.”

Tony smiles. “Yeah,” he says. “That’s why there was a button.”

~

The legal documents Tony has had drawn up are…okay.

Natasha will admit the he did a very good job making sure she doesn’t actually have to admit guilt to anything and that her signature confirms only that a number of parties angry about the destruction of the airport will be satisfied by restricting her movement for six months, during which she is absolutely not to engage in another ridiculous superhero brawl.

It’s really not bad, though it has some worrisome language about permissible use of chemical restraints and a few other so-called ‘security procedures’ that seem both a little extreme and not particularly applicable to Natasha.

She thinks on that, then goes back into Tony’s server and discovers nearly identical documents prepared for everyone else – Clint, Sam, Wanda, Ant-Man, and even Steve. Not as complete as hers and the sentence length is blank on theirs, but all obviously part of a larger deal Tony didn’t mention. Which also explains the size of the dungeon. And confirms that he totally left Steve’s shield where Natasha found it to make an obnoxious point.

Natasha sends a digital copy of hers to her real attorney, with a few of her own edits.

She hesitates for a second, because she knows that even if the document boils down to a good deal that ends a lot of this mess, the text is still going to make Clint apoplectic.  Natasha sighs, hopes one of the cooler heads there can calm him down, and sends him a copy of his.

She wonders if Tony has attempted to make contact on this, or if he’s proceeding with the idea that they’re all going to be caught eventually and wants something prepared. He didn’t tell her and she’s been in the damn house. Those documents aren’t the work of someone consumed by vindictive rage, but Natasha feels like she still doesn’t have a good understanding of where he’s coming from. And she doesn’t like that she had to stumble upon the dungeon.

That’s when FRIDAY announces, as requested, that Tony Stark is BARFing.

Natasha’s not sure what she hopes to accomplish by interrupting him, besides what she anticipates will be a delightful discussion about invading his privacy and a lot of sarcasm about her own mental health. She also doesn’t think she’s the best or most sensitive person to advance the idea that BARF might actually be counterproductive. But Natasha’s the only one here to do it, unless she wants to dump it on Rhodey’s overflowing plate.

This is how she learns that Tony no longer considers his last moments with his parents to be his most traumatic.

The second Natasha walks in to the back lab, she sees Iron Man under attack by Captain America and the Winter Soldier. They’re taking turns beating him with Cap’s shield.

Natasha has her gun out and aimed at Winter Soldier before her brain catches up with her body, and she squeezes off three head shots…

That go through the apparition and harmlessly into the wall.

Iron Man drops to the floor and the other two figures suddenly vanish, as Tony removes the glasses that activate the machine.

“What the hell are you doing?” they both yell, almost simultaneously.

“FRIDAY,” Tony adds. “Doors! Lock them. Always and forever.”

He pushes himself up off the floor. The Iron Man suit, part of the simulation, is gone. He’s in a t-shirt and what might be pajama pants.                          

Natasha puts her gun away. “Tony,” she says. “What the hell?”

Tony rolls himself upright and stands, looking at the bullet holes in the wall above his head.

“Uh, thanks?” he says, “I think…do you know how to enter a room non-violently?”

“This is what you’re doing?” Natasha demands. She walks up to him and it takes every ounce of self-control not to stomp the BARF glasses, still lying on the floor.

Tony stares at her, thrown off by the aggression. “Uh, yes,” he goes with.

Natasha stoops down and picks up the glasses. He plucks them out of her hand, maybe anticipating that she wants to crush them.

“That’s what happened, by the way,” he says, brushing past her to drop the apparatus in a drawer. “In case you were wondering. Except you didn’t show up to shoot old buddy old pal in the face.” He pauses, tilts his head. “I like your instincts, but I wonder what Steve would have done to _you_.”

“This is what you’re doing,” Natasha repeats. “Instead of sleeping.”

“Mm, not a big difference in visuals,” Tony says, finding a seat on a nearby stool.

Natasha catalogues that and doesn’t say anything while Tony gets a robot to bring him a glass of water. She sits down on the stool next to him.

“Is it helping?” she asks, eventually.

He looks sideways at her. “And how does that make you _feel_ , Tony?”

“Not what I asked,” she replies. “I don’t care how it makes you feel. I think it’s probably stupid and making things worse, but I asked if it’s helping.”

He shrugs. “I liked how it went this time, with the shooting.”

“Can that thing change your memories?” she asks. “Change the outcome?”

“In my mind?” he asks. “Those are called delusions, and that’s not what the machine is for.” She waits. “No,” he says, offended.

“I feel like you’re watching a car crash,” she tells him. “And I don’t understand why.”

“I was in the _car_ ,” he says, like she’s a moron.

“The car’s gone,” she answers. “What is rewatching the collision going to do?”

Tony _almost_ answers honestly. Then it passes as his lip quirks. “Monday morning tape,” he says. “For next Sunday, coach.”

“You can talk to him,” she says, purposefully ignoring him. “Your parents are dead – he’s not.”

Tony turns glacial. “That’s kind of my point.”

Natasha wants to call him a coward, but she bites it back. If he wants to watch pain through a computer interface, hurting him isn’t going to help.

“You can’t interact with everyone who loves you through that thing,” she says. “That’s no way to live. It won’t fix anything.”

“Loves?” he echoes, then abruptly shuts up and immediately changes the subject. “Aren’t you supposed to be reading?”

“I read fast,” she says, allowing it.                                    

“And?”

“I had a few revisions –“

“But it’s a good deal,” Tony interrupts.                          

She nods, and he sips his water and does a bad job hiding his relief.

“I found the others,” she says. “I sent Clint his.”

“What’d he say?”

“Uh, double emoji middle fingers.”

“Idiot,” Tony says.

She doesn’t comment. “I’ll get you my edits.”

“You want to do your time here or in Wakanda?” Tony asks, doing more pretending like he doesn’t care.

Natasha looks straight at him. “I live here.”

He doesn’t try to hide his smile. “I always knew you were the smart one.”

“But I don’t live in a dungeon,” she says. “Build a robot or something.”

Tony’s smile grows, then twists. “Say that again so FRI can record it. I want it remembered you gave permission.”

~

Someone finds out Natasha’s close to signing Tony’s legal stuff, and they don’t like it. And they’re going to be incredibly dead when Natasha finds out who they are, because they go after the Barton family.

Along with the monthly cash infusions, Tony installed a panic button at the Barton farmstead. When Laura hits it, screens at the compound light up with images of a black-clad assault team fanned out across the Barton property, moving towards the house.

Tony suits up immediately. “Mrs. Idiot’s safehouse is compromised,” he announces. “She’s just a smart as her husband. Those poor kids are doomed.”

“We’re going,” Natasha corrects.

“Oh, I’m going to save them,” Tony says. “I just meant doomed, intellectually.”

“I’m coming,” Natasha says.

“You’re in hiding,” Tony says, “And you can’t breathe atmosphere.”

The Quinjet is gone. Tony and Vision can fly.

So could Rhodes, once. He looks at the screen and frowns. “Take her with you, Tony. You need back up.”

“I have the flying magical clown man,” Tony says, and Vision looks aggrieved.

“I know you have another suit,” Natasha says. “I’ll find it myself.”

He hears that as a threat to trash his lab, which it is.

“Or I could tell you,” Rhodes offers.

“They want you there so they can get you on tape killing everyone, you know.”

“I know.”

He does find her a suit, a slimmer, smaller version of his own that launches out of a stylish metal clutch.

“This is not designed for you,” he warns her, as it goes on. “Don’t do anything fancy and…try to be taller.”

“I only need it in the air,” she replies. It’s much too conspicuous for what’s going to happen when they land.

Natasha is a little short for the suit made for Pepper, and it throws the propulsion calculations off. Or, Tony has disabled that function so he can control her movement. Vision politely volunteers to transport her.

She grabs on to his shoulders. “Let’s go.”

“The name of the game is discretion,” Tony orders, when they’re in the air. “Non-Lethal. Get the kids and the wife and get out. Let’s stay off the news.”

Natasha doesn’t say anything, because even though she _knows_ he’s right, the people trying to hurt those kids are going to regret it.

“You tell Hawkeye?” Tony asks her.

“No,” she says. “It’s a trap.”

“Of course it is,” he says. Then, “Good.”

When they land, Natasha disengages the suit, letting it fold into a clutch. She hands it to Tony to hold for her, because he hates being handed things.

“Hold this,” she says, ready to move, but he grabs her elbow before she can run off.

“Wait.”

She looks at his hand on her arm, then at his face. He’s retracted the mask.

“Listen, Agent Excessive Force –”

“Let go,” she interrupts. “Those are my –”

“I know,” he says. “This turns into Waco with Augments, those kids will be just as dead and we’ll get the blame.”

Natasha tries to pull away, but he holds on. “Priorities,” he says, before letting go.

She sprints towards the house, and behind her she hears Iron Man open fire. She knows without looking he’s keeping the assault squad at bay, but not hitting them.

Vision does various terrifying non-lethal things to keep the enemy occupied while Tony shoots at their feet and tries to keep them from moving forward.

The house has already been infiltrated. One of the squad is dead in the kitchen and Natasha clamps down her emotions. She’s not supposed to kill anyone, but Tony didn’t say anything about not kicking half a dozen guys down the stairs, or wedging the head of the asshole that grabs her into the banister.

Laura got herself and the kids into the panic room and the bad guys haven’t found them. Natasha yells their code word as she gets the door open, but she still has to kick the gun out of Laura’s hands. She looks over Laura’s shoulder to find the older kids pretending to play a card game against the back wall, baby Nate on Lila’s lap.

“It’s me,” she says, and Laura looks at her with a bloody lip and a concussed gaze, confirming that the body Natasha saw on the kitchen floor totally deserved to die.

“Got ‘em,” she says, into her radio. “Laura needs medical attention.”

“Clint?” Laura says, desperately.

“He’s not here.”                                                                                                                                                                               

At that point, the bad guys decide if they can’t get past Iron Man and Vision, they’ll just set the whole damn house on fire. Tony tells her so and she can already smell smoke.

Barton’s kids are reliably obedient and fairly calm about everything. They’ve practiced for this, and they’ve also pretty much expected Aunt Nat to be the one to come for them.  She retrieves Laura’s gun, picks up the infant, and takes Laura by the hand. Natasha leads them all out the back of the house, Laura and the kids in a daisy-chain behind her.

“Where are we going?” Cooper asks her back, sounding like he needs reassurance.

“Iron Man,” Natasha says, “We’re going to see Iron Man.”

“But we don’t like him,” Lila pipes up.

“Yeah, well, your daddy wants you to go to him,” Natasha says.

“I’m gonna kick his ass,” Cooper declares and Natasha almost laughs, despite herself.

Tony is waiting for them at the rear exit.

“So much for inconspicuous,” he says, peering over her shoulder at what is probably the house burning down. Natasha doesn’t follow his gaze so the kids won’t look.

She transfers Laura’s hand into his, and he looks at the injured woman and frowns.

“Get them out of here,” she says, holding out the baby. “You got a car seat attachment in that thing?”

Vision lands on the rear lawn and the kids are curious enough about him and being told to climb aboard, that they haven’t glanced back once at their burning home.

Tony takes the baby from her, tries to hand back the purse-suit.

“I’ll catch up,” she says.

“It’s time to go,” Tony replies.

“I have something to clean up inside,” she says. “One of their agents.”

“Shit.”

“Yeah.”

“You know the house is on fire, right?”

“Looks that way,” she says, turning to head inside.

Laura’s concussed enough to be having trouble following the conversation but she can see the fire. “Don’t go back in!”

“Hey!” Tony shoves the baby in Laura’s arms and makes a grab for Natasha. “Put on the suit! The fireproof suit? If I have to tell Clint his house burned down with you inside –”

Natasha takes the clutch and Tony must have activated it, because it immediately starts clinging to her wrist and climbing up her arm.

“Get them out of here,” she repeats. “And keep their eyes forward.”

Tony was right about the suit, because the kitchen is filled with smoke and the flames are licking the walls. The suit’s filtering systems are helpful as she digs the bullet that killed the guy in the kitchen out of the cabinet and pockets it. She uses dead guy’s gun to shoot a few times in approximately the same place. Laura’s gun and the bullet come with Natasha; she can only hope that there’s not a surveillance recording, or that this particular group has little to gain from going after Laura.

She rendezvous with Vision and Tony in a farm field a few kilometers away. When Natasha arrives, Tony is doing acrobatics in the air to entertain the kids, and to keep their eyes off the smoke in the distance.

Cooper has abandoned any desire to kick Iron Man’s ass, and Natasha has the wild thought that at least one Barton has come around.

~

The Barton family moves into Stark’s compound that night. Tony throws money at some medical professionals to keep an eye on Laura and acts reliably put upon by the family’s presence. He vanishes to try to figure out who sent the assault squad to the safe house, which frankly should be Natasha’s job. But he’s not going to be good at what she must do, which is comfort the kids and talk to their dad. Rhodes stays with her, and the kids are fascinated by his exo-skeleton.

“Hey, least I’m still good for something,” Rhodes says, even though Natasha is less sure that giving the kids piggy-back rides on the legs is medically-recommended.

While he distracts them, Natasha texts Clint.

She sends him a picture of the family sacked out their new home, and a short message confirming their safety.

 _The farm is gone_ , she texts him. _Laura wants you to come in. Don’t._

Worrisomely, he doesn’t respond.

The destruction at the Barton home makes the news, but there are no images of Iron Man or Vision, or Natasha getting the kids out. Local authorities presume the Barton family dead. Natasha watches the broadcast, unhappy. Clint still hasn’t answered her. Not even _Where the fuck are you?_

“They can’t stay here,” Natasha says, when Tony comes back. She doesn’t ask if he’s found out who attacked the farmstead because she can tell he hasn’t from the scowl.

“No, they can’t,” Tony agrees. “Freeloaders.”

“It’s not safe.”

Tony, more or less silently, helps her arrange to have the Bartons sent to another safehouse. His lack of commentary suggests he’s as worried as she is that whoever’s after them isn’t just trying to draw Hawkeye out.  Or they’ve decided that _dead kids_ is a better trap than anything else. He has enough of a filter to keep that to himself in front of them.

“You shouldn’t know where they’re going,” Tony tells her.

“Neither should you,” she snaps, because she knows he’s right and it hurts.

“I’m not going to tell anyone,” he retorts, offended.

“If this was my job,” she says, “I’d steal some Stark Tech and make it look like Iron Man did it, live on CNN.”

His hands still over his holo-keyboard. “Clint wouldn’t believe it.”

“I’d be very convincing,” she says. “And it doesn’t matter.”               

“Captain Gullible?” Tony asks, like she has an iota of energy left to devote to that. “He’s not that dumb.”

“I think we’ve all proven we are absolutely that dumb and easy to manipulate,” she says, meanly, as FRIDAY produces co-ordinates to the Bartons’ new home and accepts programming to provide the location only to Vision.

Vision travels with them and Natasha does a tactically flawless performance of acting like she’s going to see the family again. Tony does a decent job pretending he hasn’t noticed how upset she is, until they’re gone.

“Well,” he says, and if the next word out of his mouth is blaming this on Clint, Natasha is going to break all the bones in his face. “Any idea how we fix this?”

Natasha blinks at him, and only shakes her head.

~

Completely predictably, Clint arrives at the compound just a few hours after his family departed. Less predictably, he’s alone, and it’s not particularly challenging for Tony’s security systems and Iron Man to get him disarmed and dropped into the one cell’s that been completed. He shares it with Natasha’s hologram – she signed the plea agreement.

Natasha doesn’t interfere. Clint shooting Tony isn’t going to help the situation. Tony also isn’t going to help the situation, because after dumping Clint on his ass in the cell, he retreats to his lab.

“You need to talk to him,” she says, watching Clint scream at the camera on the security screen. He’s also screamed at the Natasha holograph, who is sophisticated enough not to like it, but non-corporeal enough not to be able to hurt him for it.

“You’re the talker,” Tony says, pretending to be engrossed with his table top of gadgets. “You do it.” He pauses. “Can I also interest you in forging his signature on those documents, because –“ he tips his head towards the screen. “Two birds, one stone.”

Natasha happens to agree with him. Clint should have signed the damn forms and let Tony put another holograph in there. Of course, with all the silent treatment going on, they never had that discussion.

“I’m just saying,” Tony says, when she scowls.

“I’m going in there; you better let me out,” she warns.

“You’re already in there,” he reminds her, and makes no promises.

It takes a long time to calm Clint down, including the part where he tackles her into the wall when she enters the cell, and she has to flip him off of her and knock the wind out him until he stays down.

While he drags air raggedly back into his lungs, she sits by his head and concisely explains that his family is safe and that she and Tony made absolutely sure of it, that this was all a trap, and that he fell for it like a total moron.

“Did you know Stark built a sex bot of you?” Clint demands, from the floor.  

“He’ll make one of you, too,” she offers, with a sigh.

Eventually, Clint spills that he did, in fact, try to fall for the trap at his farm. He’s circumspect on the details, but it sounds like he had to give Wanda the slip, had a fist fight with Sam, and Steve might have sat on him to keep him from leaving until Clint tricked him into getting off.

“He was right,” Natasha says. “Your kids are safe. Vision’s with them.”

“You don’t know where they are,” Clint realizes.

“If we don’t know, they can’t be leverage,” she says, even though he should know.

“Leverage for what?” Clint demands.

“Whoever’s taking the opportunity to pick us off one by one.”

“What the hell are you talking about, Nat?” Clint forces himself off the floor.

“I don’t think they expected Tony or Vision to help,” she says. “I would have gotten killed at the farm by myself. Then they could have waited for you.”

Clint mutters something that clearly involves Tony’s name, and she feels the same need to punch him in the face.

“And you probably lead them to wherever Steve and the others are hiding,” she continues.

Clint has fallen silent, hopefully realizing just how badly he’s screwed up.

Natasha stands up, needing to talk to someone else.

“If you agree to sign the plea,” she adds, “Tony will probably let you out. But if you don’t, he’s going to forge your signature on it and keep you in here.”

Clint stares at her.

“He’s also going to tell everyone he captured you,” she offers, since that’s much more likely to work.

“I _did_ capture him,” Tony says, immediately, when she emerges from the cell. She ignores that. “When did you figure it out?” he follows up with.

“It’s what I’d do,” she says. “But I’d know better and kill you first.”

“I wasn’t supposed to be at the farm,” he says, looking unsure if he should be proud of his perceived callousness.

“No. Me. I’m dead. Then Clint. And they trace him back to the others.”

“The others are probably harder to kill,” Tony says. “They’re still together.” There are worse ways to have phrased that.

Natasha shakes her head. “No, they aren’t. Scott split. Clint was with Wanda and Steve was with Sam. They were separate until Clint went rogue.”

“I heard that part,” Tony says, “Sounds like they had Round 2. And didn’t invite me. Rude.”

Natasha glares at him. “I’d like to fight the ones that tried to kill Clint’s family, first.”

“If you insist,” Tony says.

~

Natasha calls Steve. She would have preferred that Tony do it, but apparently that’s asking too much. Tony has released Clint from the cell with minimal taunting, and given him ice packs and whiskey for the beating he took to get here. Nobody has weapons and no one has brought up anything about trying to kill each other. Clint hasn’t pointed out that he got tossed in the cell that easy because of how banged up he is from fighting with Cap and Sam. Tony hasn’t wagged the plea bargain papers in his face. In fact, Tony, Clint, and Rhodes are sitting together at a table, like old times. All signs point to progress. Saving Clint’s family went a long way, but she knows them and they are both admirably holding their obnoxious tongues.

“It’s me,” Natasha says, when Steve picks up. “We got Hawkeye. His family’s safe.” Before he can speak, she continues: “Which one of you beat the shit out him?”

Steve pauses. “That was mostly Sam, but Wanda says she owes him one.” He moves on. “He was trying to walk right into a trap.”

“I didn’t say he didn’t deserve it,” Natasha says.

“Hey,” Clint says, sharply, from behind her.

Natasha ignores him and proceeds to tell Steve that someone decidedly worse than the UN has decided to take advantage of the situation. “Are you with Wanda and Sam, now?”

“Yeah.”

“You need to come home,” she says. “I mean, in.”

Steve is silent.

“He’s gonna think it’s a trap,” Tony volunteers. “So that I can –“ he makes some kind of abstract gesture with his fist.

“We’re vulnerable like this,” she continues.

“What? Oh hell no,” Tony interrupts. “That’s not what we agreed.”

“You didn’t want to talk to him,” she says, moving her mouth away from the phone.

“I heard that,” Steve says.

“Call a truce,” she says. “Clint and Tony and Rhodes are sitting at a table drinking together.”

“Oh good, tell him I’m drinking,” Tony says. “He’s a big fan of that.”

“I’m not actually allowed to drink,” Rhodey says, sadly.

“Wanda, get your fingers out of my face,” Steve says, abruptly.

Natasha smiles and Tony looks confused. “Wanda wants to come home,” she reports.

Tony’s expression softens a bit, but Clint shakes his head. “I fried her a little,” he says, and looks guilty.

“Like I said to Tony,” Natasha promises. “You can fight each other after we find and kill the guys that went after Clint’s family.”

“Why didn’t Tony call?” Steve asks.

“Because he is an obstinate asshole just like you,” Natasha says.

“Hey,” Tony says, without much heat.

“Yeah, not at all,” Rhodes says, while nodding in agreement.

“You could come to Wakanda,” Steve continues, not disproving that statement at all.

“Rhodey’s hospital is here,” Natasha says.

After a second, Steve says: “Give us 24 hours.”

Natasha hangs up, returns to the table. “They’re coming,” she says.

“I feel used,” Rhodes tells her, but he looks okay with it.

Tony won’t meet her eyes.

“You didn’t tell him about my dungeon,” he says, finally.

“You can do that,” Natasha says.

Despite his blackened eyes, across the table Clint is kind of grinning and Natasha suddenly feels so much relief to have him here.

~

The reunion is…awkward.

Wanda, at least, wants to hug everyone. Well, she wants to slap Clint, then hug him. Steve and Sam have similar opinions on that, and Sam looks like he took a mirror-image beating of the one Clint took.

“I’m glad you stopped him,” Natasha says, and tries to gingerly embrace him because Clint likes to go for the ribs.

“Delayed,” Sam corrects, and hugs her hard enough that it probably hurts him.

Everyone wants to hug Rhodey. Natasha does it, too.

“You’ve been here for weeks,” Rhodes mutters, but lets her.

“Thank you for coming,” she says to Steve, who feels tense under her hands.

Steve murmurs in her ear noncommittally, and holds tight until she withdraws. 

“Where is Vision?” Wanda asks, looking worried.

“He’s with the Bartons,” Natasha reassures them.

“And where’s Tony?” Steve asks, finally, since their host isn’t here.

“He told me to tell you he went to his underground lair to plot your doom,” Rhodes recites. “But he actually went to his lab.”

“To plot our doom?” Sam asks.

“Other people’s doom,” Natasha interjects, hopefully.

~

Steve goes to find Stark and Natasha follows.

“I don’t need a chaperone,” Steve says, in the elevator.

“If this gets off topic, I’m punching someone in the face,” she tells him.

“Duly warned,” Steve says.

“Good,” Natasha replies.

“How’s he been?” Steve asks, after a beat.

Natasha rolls her lips. “He’s distracted by legitimate bad guys for the moment, but he’s not pleased with you.”

Steve exhales, nods a little.

“He’s also been using Stark technology to relive the fight he had with you and Winter Soldier,” Natasha tattles.

“What?” Steve blinks at her. “Why?”

“I have no idea,” she says, though she has a few theories. “I just walked in on it.”

“You saw,” Steve says, and for a split second he looks ashamed.

“I did,” she confirms.

“I had to stop him,” Steve says, even though she didn’t ask.

“I know you did.” Natasha doesn’t tell him her instinct was to kill Winter Soldier, too.

“Bucky’s all I have left.”

There’s a response on the tip of her tongue, but the elevator doors are sliding open, so Natasha settles on, “I need you to shut the hell up, now.”

~ 

Tony says absolutely nothing about Winter Soldier. Not a word. The verbal abuse directed at Steve is solely about his failure to babysit Clint, and how utterly sad it is that a super soldier can’t stop a non-augmented human armed with a medieval weapon from running into an incredibly obvious trap. He questions the serum’s effect on Steve’s intellect and wants to know how Steve survived long enough to end up in the ice at all, being that gullible.

It’s a fairly impressive monologue and so different from the one Natasha expected, that she just watches and quietly agrees that Clint would have never gotten away from her.

Eventually, Steve pokes her on the arm. “Hey,” he says. “I thought you were gonna punch someone in the face?”

“I’m waiting for him to say something inaccurate,” she retorts.

But Tony really doesn’t need encouragement and he doesn’t know when to stop, so Natasha steps in.

“You find them?” she asks.

Tony looks a little annoyed he’s not allowed to continue, but goes with it. “Of course I did.”

He draws up a screen that zooms into somewhere in northern Canada and shows a bunker hidden in a snowy, treed landscape.

“They weren’t hiding,” he mutters. “I don’t think they expected anyone to go looking.”

“Well, we did,” Natasha says. She was supposed to die at the farm and Tony was supposed to let her. Clint would have been next and presumably the others would have been lured after him.  She feels it needs to be said aloud. “They think we can’t work together anymore.”

“They’re wrong,” Steve says, firmly. “Let’s prove it.”

“They all have to die,” Natasha adds, in case Steve is thinking of something ridiculous like taking anyone into custody.

He looks at her and nods.

Tony shrugs in agreement, then his eyes slant dangerously.

“Unless Steve went to grade school with one of them,” he says, unable to control himself. “Then they’re cool.”

 

~

The battle feels less like a fight and more like…a homecoming. It feels good. Captain America and Iron Man can still work together in the field.  It feels _fucking fantastic_ to fight alongside Clint again, even though maybe he shouldn’t have come given the recent beating. She hangs back to keep an eye on him when she really wants to be up front eliminating the bastards that tried to murder his children.

She doesn’t get to do much, but Falcon and the Witch do plenty. They seem to have some pent-up aggression. Steve and Tony don’t hit each other. Tony even mostly shuts up and focuses on the task at hand: proving to their enemies that the Avengers will still…well…avenge.

Natasha misses Bruce and Thor, and she kind of even misses the Other Guy. Not for the first time, she thinks he could have found and held the center Steve and Tony so thoroughly wrecked.  And the Hulk could have smashed the shit out of the compound and that would have been fun to watch. Thor would have brought the thunder.

Instead, after it’s over, Iron Man just burns it all down. The land glows orange as night falls above them.

Natasha retreats with others back to the jet. She catches Steve watching Iron Man blasting the remnants of the structure, and kind of smiling.  

“Hey,” she says, sharply but quietly enough that the rest won’t hear her. “You know, he’d do that for you, too.”

Steve blinks at her, not following.

“We all would,” she says. “If they’d gone after you, instead of the Bartons.”

“I know,” Steve says, matching her volume.

She leans into his ear, close enough to sink her teeth into him. “Then stop fucking saying he’s all you have left, because it’s not true.”

Understanding settles over Steve’s face and he looks torn.

“It’s not that simple,” he whispers.

“I didn’t say it was simple, I said to stop trying to push us away.”

“That’s not what you said,” Steve points out.

“I’m saying it now,” Natasha replies.

They make their way back the jet in silence.

“Okay,” Steve says, as they watch Iron Man finish the place off with what is probably overkill. “I’ll try…with him. But he’s not gonna make it easy.”

“He built a dungeon and put your shield in your cell,” Natasha says.

“What?”

“And he’s probably going to try to push a button on you.” She warns.

“He has the best lawyers and plea agreements,” Clint pipes up, eavesdropping. “They aren’t perfect but…”

“They’re better than what you’re doing,” Natasha adds. “You could come home.”

“Wakanda is nice,” Steve mutters.

“I want to go home,” Wanda says, and parts of her glow.

“This is called Peer Pressure,” Sam deigns to tell him. “I think they invented it in the ‘80s.”

“I get to go home,” Clint continues, ignoring him. “I think you should, too.”

“He’s going to try to throw me in a cell and press a button,” Steve points out, as Iron Man stops salting the earth and swivels to return to them.

“Yes, but he left your shield in there, so you can probably get out pretty quick,” Natasha says.

~

They have dinner with Rhodey that night in the compound. Before FRIDAY gives Clint the coordinates to his family’s secret location. He’ll be leaving to join them and not coming back until the next time they have to save the planet. Natasha is choosing to believe that could be tomorrow, and not thinking about it beyond that.

Tony hasn’t tried to press the button on Steve. He’s said a lot of incendiary things, but not detonated anything incendiary. Natasha is calling that a win. It’s a win to be at the table with most of her friends and she can’t expect miracles.

Natasha is relieved that Tony stays at the table. He doesn’t retreat with a drink or with those incredibly disturbing BARF glasses.

She feels impossibly fond of them all, even if it's post-battle fatigue and hunger that can be credited with much of the silence and civility.

“Proud of me, mom?” Tony whispers, catching her in the moment.

“I think she would be, yeah,” Natasha replies, with absolute sincerity.

Tony blinks, and shifts uncomfortably in his seat. “Hey,” he says, uncharacteristically at loss for words. He finds them soon enough. “You warned Cap about the button. You’ll pay for that.”

“Put it on my tab,” she says, smiling.

~Please Feed The Author~


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